


dandelions

by katsunei



Series: katsunei's songfics [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blackwatch Era, Blood and Injury, Crushes, Daydreaming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Freeform, Hurt No Comfort, Loss of Limbs, Major Character Injury, Mentioned Hanzo Shimada, Mentioned Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, POV Third Person, Pining, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Songfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsunei/pseuds/katsunei
Summary: Genji loves her; he's sure.If only there was the possibility that she felt the same.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: katsunei's songfics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180718
Kudos: 12





	dandelions

_Maybe it's the way you say my name,_

"Genji!", he heard Angela exclaim from behind him. Cursing himself for not hearing her beforehand, he turns to give his undivided attention to those ocean orbs. He's lost, surely. Perhaps he can convince himself he's trapped within a labyrinth; constantly gazing into her starry eyes, admiring her flawless complexion.

"Have you finally come for your maintenance check? You've been putting them off..." The rest of her sentence was lost upon him, devoured by a haze of admiration for the doctor who cannot seem to catch a hint. The feeling of her hands upon his skin leaving a burning sensation in their wake, marking his nerves with the knowledge of her acts; although he yearns for more than just the fleeting touches during maintenance checks.

_Maybe it's the way you play your game,_

He can't help but notice the way she absentmindedly twirls a loose strand of hair around her pointer finger while she works. He wonders if she is aware of what that does to him; if she does it to get under what remains of his skin, working through the seams of his flesh. He'd understand if she didn't notice; its by choice that he is hard to read, refusing to remove his face mask to save himself from reminiscing in the past. Perhaps it was because of the way he is - nobody could ever love somebody like him.

_It's all good, I've never known anybody like you,_

As much as he hates to admit, he spends valuable time reflecting on what could have been if he were to have chosen a different direction for his youth, rather than galivanting around as he liked with his childish playboy antics. Although no matter how many individuals he stayed with: whether it be a simple fling or something he had foolishly believed to be real, no-one ever made him feel the way Angela does. The never ending sensation of butterflies tapping his soul - taunting him. Of course, he could ponder the possibility of the doctor reflecting his feelings. Of course, it would only ever remain a thought; for he couldn't imagine being worthy of her time.

_But it's all good, I've never dreamed of nobody like you,_

The image of silky platinum blonde locks, teal eyes that absorb his attention like the waves; washing over his very being and cleansing him through. He never thought he'd have the privilege to meet someone so astounding, worthy of worship. Could it be that life was teasing him, reminding him of something he couldn't have? Such a cruel outcome considering the demise his own kin attempted to hand to him. But the pain of knowing that she'd never feel the same towards him was agony, like he was being run through by his brothers blade once again - threading through his heart with desperation.

_And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime,_

Genji always knew he wouldn't have total control over his life, the shackles of the yakuza digging deep into the depths of his soul, keeping him chained to their will. His father was materialistic, that much was certain. Although Genji was never given any true responsibilities per say, he had always known he would eventually be married off to another family in pursuit of growth for the yakuza as a whole.

After being struck down by his own brother - not the most desirable fate to receive - he thought that was the end. Of course, he's never been one to get what he wants when it matters. Finally free from the cage of the clan; but at what cost? How could he ever love anyone else if he didn't have the ability to love himself?

He's a mess of wires and flesh, who would ever love him? The burning hatred that he holds dear for Hanzo can't begin to entertain the thought of overpowering the hope and happiness that the doctor instilled in him. The revelation that he could feel anything for anybody other than his brother overwhelmed him with joy, loathing of any kind was a comforting familiarity, although exchanging it for something he'd never imagined was a worthy trade. Now onto the difficult task - how does he deal with his feelings towards his saviour in addition to the disgust that he felt towards himself? After all - if he couldn't love his body, how could anybody else?

_I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine._

He had tried to avoid it - really, he had, but now there was no escaping it. He was head over heels for Angela. There was nothing he could do to get her off his mind, turning into a blushing mess equivalent to that of a teenage school girl the minute she entered the room if McCree's playful jabs were anything to go by.

_I'm in a field of Dandelions, wishing on every one that you'd be mine,_

He's willing to do anything for her, give up everything in the world just for him to tell her he loves her and have her say the same. To have the right to know she is his, with the knowledge that she knows him better than anyone else ever could. He ponders what it'd feel like to be loved and adored and have the thread through his heart intertwining them together in what almost felt like a physical sense. To be able to connect and understand and trust; the feelings he holds dear and has the desire to share with Angela, and Angela alone.

_I see forever in your eyes,_

Genji often considered what love could feel like - real love. Not the way he'd feel during a fling or at the sight of women from out of town, but true admiration and pride towards someone he could care deeply for. He thinks back to his parents. Sojiro was a man of harsh words, using verbal brutality to get his point across, as well as having servants that worshipped the ground he walked on. His status was build upon the foundations of the yakuza; the Shimada Empire carried from generations long forgotten.

As much as he wants to believe his father may have had even the slightest hint of compassion in his heart, he could never imagine his father loving his mother the way he thinks he loves Angela. Genji's mother was a distant memory, having passing when was much too young to remember. Even so, he cant remember a time when his father seemed even remotely distraught over her passing. He knows that wouldn't be the case for him. The possibility of living his life without her beside him is enough to instil roots of anguish into his heart, setting up camp and making a home there to stay.

_I feel okay when I see you smile,_

He doesn't remember much about being recovered, only the sharp scent of cigarillos and the blinding white of a halo; Angela's halo, he's soon discover. He remembers the contrast of rough calloused hands against cool, smooth ones - followed by the comforting aura of safety and content. After his 'death', so to speak, it was understandable that he'd keep himself guarded. Reyes wouldn't tolerate his behaviour if he were to even dare try it - which he wouldn't.

Being able to see Angela regularly for his check-ups made his day better, showing her pearly whites with an affection shown to nobody else; reserved for his eyes alone, perhaps. Sometimes he'd return her smile with one of her own, visible only by the creases by his eyes and the pleasant rising of his cheeks. He liked to think that she felt some form of joy from being able to do that; pride that she could make him feel that way, although he knew it to not be true.

_Wishing on Dandelions all of the time, praying to god that one day you'll be mine,_

Sometimes he pictures a different path of his life; one where perhaps he wasn't such a failure in his fathers eyes, or maybe he had been worthy of his brothers time. Sometimes he understands why Hanzo did what he did, and has long since resigned to his fate as the cybernetic creation designed to carry out orders. Sometimes he's grateful for his undesirable predicament; he got to meet someone as wonderful as Angela of course - but was it really worth his life?

_All of the time._

Could he ever bring himself to drag her down with his misfortunes is the question he asks himself. Would it be fair of him, a sparrow of dull colour and clipped wings, to interfere with the potential of a blinding, pure dove such as Angela?

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is my first work and ive been thinking about it for a while. initially wrote it up back in april but left it for a while due to school and lack of motivation etc.
> 
> ive briefly read through it, so please tell me if there are any mistakes, ty :)


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